Criticism says more about the "critic" than the subject matter upon which he opines and comments and criticizes. Most "critics" don't know what the fuck they talk about, especially if a work of art is concerned, if they themselves never produced a singled work of art in their entire miserable little lives. All they do is to babble and foam at the mouth at some aspects of the work they barely understand.
Take my latest creation, "The Vietnamese Book of the Dead". Instead of noticing the marvelous lyrical language and the original imagination at work, one critic harped on the supposed violence (which didn't exist!) in the story simply because I used the phrase "maggot-infested" corpses and wondered out loud if I would be much better off had I dwelled on peace and forgiveness and all that shit. The so-called critic missed the mark completely. The focus and locus of the story was the search for peace through invoking memories of the individuals who were dear and loving to the protagonist even though they already died. There was not an element of violence and bitterness in the piece.
Sunday, January 27, 2013
Thursday, January 24, 2013
The Vietnamese Book of the Dead
The Vietnamese Book of the Dead
Ever since I saw the movie made by that Indian guy with a weird, poetic name, I have fancied that I can see and communicate with dead people, not only while I am asleep, but also during my walking moments. When I was young and impressionable and stupid, I read shitty books like The Tibetan Book of the Dead and The Egyptian Book of the Dead. I didn't understand a thing of what I read. They sounded like a compilation of mumbo-jumbo imagined and believed by people who gave too much importance to death and afterlife, and not enough to the present. Now I am much older and more conceited and ignorant, I fancy that I know more about death and life than anybody alive. It all started with a dream involving my deceased mother a few months back. In the dream she was still much alive and I was very much a young boy. We were visiting my maternal mother in the Mekong Delta. Perhaps I should add a footnote here that I was inordinately attached to my mother as a young boy. To me, she was the embodiment of security blanket and unconditional love and intelligence and responsibility all rolled into one walking wonder. To this day, I firmly believe that she was the only woman who really loved me for who I was and in spite of who I was. Other women professed to love me, but what they meant was that they loved themselves more and used me in the business of furthering their love of themselves. In the dream, I was walking alongside her on a raised footpath between two rows of rice paddies towards my Grandma's house after we got off the inter-city bus. The time was of mid-afternoon in a windswept day. The golden rice plants were weighed down by ripe seeds and bent by the wind. There was a light fragrance of rice in the air. I was bouncing with my feet while holding onto my mother's right hand. I was happy and didn't have a care in the world. Care and angst and suicidal obsessions came much later when I reached puberty. Anyway, as I said, I was happy, gloriously happy and secure when all of the sudden, I lost my footing and fell face down to the rice paddy. I screamed for my mother, but she was no where to be found. Meanwhile I was being scratched and suffocated by the golden rice plants. When I realized that no sound was coming out of my mouth despite my frantic efforts of screaming, panic set in and I wanted to pee badly. That was when I woke up and I realized that I was only having a dream. I glanced at the digital clock radio. It was only 3 am. I was drenched in perspiration and felt feverish and thirsty. I jumped out of bed, got to the kitchen, and had a glass of water. By the time I got back in bed, a strange sensation took over me. My senses became more acute. I felt young and energetic. The fever got higher, but I was not alarmed because I sensed that my life was not in danger. Then my mother appeared and laid her hand on my forehead. Instantly the fever came down. And I felt incredibly drowsy and slept through until the alarm went off at 7 am. I woke up a new man. My mother was still in the bedroom, standing next to the bed, smiling beatifically at me. And somehow I didn't feel scared of her presence. She just quietly followed me around the condo, like a guardian angel.
She is not the only dead person I now see. I also see certain dead people who meant a lot to me while they were alive: grandmothers, two aunts, one uncle, and one lady friend. They prop in and out of my vision whenever they feel like it.
Of course, I also see living people, but with respect to those I don't really care for, I see them in a special way. I see them decay right in front of my eyes. I see them in their decrepit, demented, delusional self. I see their disintegration and decomposition and I don't let them bother me anyway because to me, they are pitiful, rotting creatures, ready to be consumed by bugs and bacteria. I gain a new found serenity as a result.
Since I had no desire to be gist of psychiatric mill, I called on the only real friend in this world, Omar, and asked him about newly acquired "vision"
- Omar, am I sick or going psychotic here?
- No, it is a gift. You are blessed. Christ finally listened to me. He is now protecting you with his presence.
- What? I didn't see any Christ. There was no Middle Eastern man in my seeing.
- Roberto, you don't understand. Christ does not have to appear in person to help you. He works through alter egos. Christ is everywhere and everybody. All you need to do is to believe in him. Once you do that, you will have incredible peace and serenity, and hence strength. Your mother whom you see most of the times is really Christ. You told me that ever since her arrival, you have felt strong and peaceful, that is what Christ is working in your soul. Roberto, this world is only temporary. Everybody is going to die. Their bodies are going to swell up, explode, and decompose. That is a fact we humans have to accept and face with. You either view the process as a natural phenomenon and are blasé about it or you start with death as a premise, as a beginning and work backwards and really learn to live in peace, using your "vision", or "delusion", or "hallucination", no matter which term you use, as a tool, a guide, to live peacefully and so when you die, you die peacefully and without rancor or murderous intent in your heart. The two assholes who are bothering your mind so much now, just regard them as stinking, maggot-infested corpes. Time will work its wonders. Don't hasten time. Meanwhile go peacefully in the world, surrounded by your mother and all other people who are dear and loving to you.
I didn't quite understand Omar's "explanation" but I didn't want to have a theological and ontological debate with him because I had done that in the past, and all I got was a beatific smile from him and occasional nodding of the head and a goodbye embrace at the end with the same, unchanging words of parting, "Peace be with thee. And may the Lord shine brightly upon thee." So I came to a very old, ancient, friend of mine and asked her to elucidate Omar's comment. She went into a long spiel about her finding the phrase "maggot-infested corpses" objectionable and "judgmental". I defended Omar, pointing out to her that there was nothing objectionable and "judgmental" about the phrase. It was scientific, albeit graphic. I also pointed to her that I came to her not to seek enlightenment about semantics, me being a linguist and a student of words and languages, but to see if she could some light on the somewhat "mystical" speech of Omar. I walked off in a huff, feeling I was wasting my time and gas money in paying her a visit.
I came back to my condo in a foul mood, realizing that I was going through life with a boulder on my shoulders. Most fools I interacted didn't recognize that I embraced facts and logic in my discourse primarily so I could learn. They didn't really care for the intellectual journey as much as I did. In having a "conversation" with me, they only wanted to score points and look good. But they didn't fool anybody, not even themselves. Our conscience is the gatekeeper of our soul and of our conception of ourselves. They were too stupid to see that in my non-literary posts I had only one aim: a desire to see if anybody could pick apart/demolish the cogency of my thoughts.
The title of this piece is 'The Vietnamese "Book" of the Dead', but you probably already saw the irony in the title. This is no book, nor an essay; this is an insult, a spit into platitudinous, wishful thinking about life; this is a heartfelt, albeit unconventional guide to life and a disdain for death and afterlife.
Wissai
January 27, 2013
Ever since I saw the movie made by that Indian guy with a weird, poetic name, I have fancied that I can see and communicate with dead people, not only while I am asleep, but also during my walking moments. When I was young and impressionable and stupid, I read shitty books like The Tibetan Book of the Dead and The Egyptian Book of the Dead. I didn't understand a thing of what I read. They sounded like a compilation of mumbo-jumbo imagined and believed by people who gave too much importance to death and afterlife, and not enough to the present. Now I am much older and more conceited and ignorant, I fancy that I know more about death and life than anybody alive. It all started with a dream involving my deceased mother a few months back. In the dream she was still much alive and I was very much a young boy. We were visiting my maternal mother in the Mekong Delta. Perhaps I should add a footnote here that I was inordinately attached to my mother as a young boy. To me, she was the embodiment of security blanket and unconditional love and intelligence and responsibility all rolled into one walking wonder. To this day, I firmly believe that she was the only woman who really loved me for who I was and in spite of who I was. Other women professed to love me, but what they meant was that they loved themselves more and used me in the business of furthering their love of themselves. In the dream, I was walking alongside her on a raised footpath between two rows of rice paddies towards my Grandma's house after we got off the inter-city bus. The time was of mid-afternoon in a windswept day. The golden rice plants were weighed down by ripe seeds and bent by the wind. There was a light fragrance of rice in the air. I was bouncing with my feet while holding onto my mother's right hand. I was happy and didn't have a care in the world. Care and angst and suicidal obsessions came much later when I reached puberty. Anyway, as I said, I was happy, gloriously happy and secure when all of the sudden, I lost my footing and fell face down to the rice paddy. I screamed for my mother, but she was no where to be found. Meanwhile I was being scratched and suffocated by the golden rice plants. When I realized that no sound was coming out of my mouth despite my frantic efforts of screaming, panic set in and I wanted to pee badly. That was when I woke up and I realized that I was only having a dream. I glanced at the digital clock radio. It was only 3 am. I was drenched in perspiration and felt feverish and thirsty. I jumped out of bed, got to the kitchen, and had a glass of water. By the time I got back in bed, a strange sensation took over me. My senses became more acute. I felt young and energetic. The fever got higher, but I was not alarmed because I sensed that my life was not in danger. Then my mother appeared and laid her hand on my forehead. Instantly the fever came down. And I felt incredibly drowsy and slept through until the alarm went off at 7 am. I woke up a new man. My mother was still in the bedroom, standing next to the bed, smiling beatifically at me. And somehow I didn't feel scared of her presence. She just quietly followed me around the condo, like a guardian angel.
She is not the only dead person I now see. I also see certain dead people who meant a lot to me while they were alive: grandmothers, two aunts, one uncle, and one lady friend. They prop in and out of my vision whenever they feel like it.
Of course, I also see living people, but with respect to those I don't really care for, I see them in a special way. I see them decay right in front of my eyes. I see them in their decrepit, demented, delusional self. I see their disintegration and decomposition and I don't let them bother me anyway because to me, they are pitiful, rotting creatures, ready to be consumed by bugs and bacteria. I gain a new found serenity as a result.
Since I had no desire to be gist of psychiatric mill, I called on the only real friend in this world, Omar, and asked him about newly acquired "vision"
- Omar, am I sick or going psychotic here?
- No, it is a gift. You are blessed. Christ finally listened to me. He is now protecting you with his presence.
- What? I didn't see any Christ. There was no Middle Eastern man in my seeing.
- Roberto, you don't understand. Christ does not have to appear in person to help you. He works through alter egos. Christ is everywhere and everybody. All you need to do is to believe in him. Once you do that, you will have incredible peace and serenity, and hence strength. Your mother whom you see most of the times is really Christ. You told me that ever since her arrival, you have felt strong and peaceful, that is what Christ is working in your soul. Roberto, this world is only temporary. Everybody is going to die. Their bodies are going to swell up, explode, and decompose. That is a fact we humans have to accept and face with. You either view the process as a natural phenomenon and are blasé about it or you start with death as a premise, as a beginning and work backwards and really learn to live in peace, using your "vision", or "delusion", or "hallucination", no matter which term you use, as a tool, a guide, to live peacefully and so when you die, you die peacefully and without rancor or murderous intent in your heart. The two assholes who are bothering your mind so much now, just regard them as stinking, maggot-infested corpes. Time will work its wonders. Don't hasten time. Meanwhile go peacefully in the world, surrounded by your mother and all other people who are dear and loving to you.
I didn't quite understand Omar's "explanation" but I didn't want to have a theological and ontological debate with him because I had done that in the past, and all I got was a beatific smile from him and occasional nodding of the head and a goodbye embrace at the end with the same, unchanging words of parting, "Peace be with thee. And may the Lord shine brightly upon thee." So I came to a very old, ancient, friend of mine and asked her to elucidate Omar's comment. She went into a long spiel about her finding the phrase "maggot-infested corpses" objectionable and "judgmental". I defended Omar, pointing out to her that there was nothing objectionable and "judgmental" about the phrase. It was scientific, albeit graphic. I also pointed to her that I came to her not to seek enlightenment about semantics, me being a linguist and a student of words and languages, but to see if she could some light on the somewhat "mystical" speech of Omar. I walked off in a huff, feeling I was wasting my time and gas money in paying her a visit.
I came back to my condo in a foul mood, realizing that I was going through life with a boulder on my shoulders. Most fools I interacted didn't recognize that I embraced facts and logic in my discourse primarily so I could learn. They didn't really care for the intellectual journey as much as I did. In having a "conversation" with me, they only wanted to score points and look good. But they didn't fool anybody, not even themselves. Our conscience is the gatekeeper of our soul and of our conception of ourselves. They were too stupid to see that in my non-literary posts I had only one aim: a desire to see if anybody could pick apart/demolish the cogency of my thoughts.
The title of this piece is 'The Vietnamese "Book" of the Dead', but you probably already saw the irony in the title. This is no book, nor an essay; this is an insult, a spit into platitudinous, wishful thinking about life; this is a heartfelt, albeit unconventional guide to life and a disdain for death and afterlife.
Wissai
January 27, 2013
Sunday, January 20, 2013
What's going on? What's going to happen?
What's going on? What's going to happen?
Recently a stupid but vociferous ignoramus challenged me to pen an essay similar to and of the "quality" of an anti-VC essay (written in Vietnamese) that he came across on the Net. I put on a sardonic smile after reading his challenge in a forum. I initially didn't wish to dignify his stupid challenge with a reply. He made it sound like he had never read any essays written by me while in fact he had publicly expressed on more than one occasion his admiration for my "hard-hitting" (his words) essays. Now, any fool can open his mouth and pontificate; any barely literate dude can string words of banality together and post them on the Net and feel good about himself that there's a trace of his name in the cyberspace. But to write something meaningful and memorable requires more than a familiarity with words and an acquaintance with the rudiments of grammar. It requires thinking of a high order, respect for facts and logic, and sensitivity to the magic of words.
The following is not really an essay per se. It is a compendium of my observations on "random (and yet tenuously related) present realities" as I see them. They are by no means oracular and words of wisdom; thus, I welcome feedback, dissent, and dialogue.
1. The VC and the fate of Vietnam
Anything (political regime included) that is immoderate, excessive, "immoral", and "unnatural" tends to be unstable and cannot last forever. A political regime that relies on brute force and corruption for governance, and yet shows that it is unwilling to challenge a historical enemy that is bent to take over the country, is doomed to collapse and destined to the dustbin of history. So the task of those Vietnamese who really care about Vietnam---and not just to lust after power and hanker after self-aggrandizement---is not to pontificate ad nauseam how bad the VC leadership is, but to get and work together for a post-VC regime that responds to the needs of the Vietnamese populace, and not just of the political and economic elites.
2. The U.S. and the "neo-involvement" in Vietnam
It is far-fetched to think that it is possible to dislodge the VC and to modernize Vietnam without the help of Pacific powers, principally the U.S. America's willingness to help build a post-VC regime is based on naked geopolitical considerations, and not really on the milk of human kindness. To thwart China's territorial and military ambitions, America needs Vietnam to be out of China's orbit.
3. The end of the American Empire and China's Century?
The last two decades have witnessed a plethora of books and articles on the "inevitable" and "looming" decline of America as a superpower, concomitant with the rise of China and its eventual replacement of America as the number one power on this planet. There have been noises---some of which emanate from China itself---that the 21st century belongs to China, just like America owned the 20th century.
I don't subscribe to the prophecy business. I have scant, if any at all, regard for "prophets" and all the loose talks and "prophecies" about "Judgment Day", "Armageddon", "End of the World", "Second Coming of You Know Who", " Return of the Messiah", "Maya Prophecy of Doom in the Year 2012" , so on and so forth, simply because I strongly think that no organism, humans included, on this planet can accurately predict the future which involves human behaviors. At best, humans can extrapolate the present trends and speculate, not predict, about future events.
While I don't deny that America is in relative decline (due to drop of work and study ethic, overseas competition, wasteful pursuit of unnecessary wars, blind and reflexive support of Israel, implicit and unnecessary quarrel with Islam instigated by Israel and zealous Christian "leaders", etc...), there are signs of light at the end of the tunnel (revival of manufacturing jobs, putting an end to unnecessary and unwinnable wars, addressing deficit problems). In addition, Americans have had a history to rise up and meet challenges (Civil War, civil and racial unrest in the 1960's, financial crisis in 2007). Furthermore, I think the leaders in America would not roll over and play dead and let China steamroll over America. The Obama administration has rightly recognized China is an enemy and has pivoted America back to the Pacific. Military resources are being diverted from elsewhere and directed to the Pacific.
On the flip side, China's leaders in recent years stupidly have overaggressively asserted themselves and thus incurred the distrust and fear of China's neighbors. It is no surprise that these countries have responded enthusiastically to America's current policy of encircling and containing China. The path to domination is not easy street if your neighbors don't like you and are banding together and looking to your number one rival and latent and implicit enemy for protection. On top of that, China's future seems to be far from guaranteed continued rising prosperity and political stability. China's environmental problems are scarcely dealt with. The economy is geared toward exports and not domestic consumption, hence vulnerable to overseas boycotts and world trade dislocations. Corruption and cronyism are institutionalized. Economic elites are shifting financial assets to overseas. Some of them are already ensconced themselves outside of China. The populace are agitating for political freedom and reforms. Throughout China's history, there are forces at work that give rise to political and territorial disunity.
Wissai
January 19, 2013
Recently a stupid but vociferous ignoramus challenged me to pen an essay similar to and of the "quality" of an anti-VC essay (written in Vietnamese) that he came across on the Net. I put on a sardonic smile after reading his challenge in a forum. I initially didn't wish to dignify his stupid challenge with a reply. He made it sound like he had never read any essays written by me while in fact he had publicly expressed on more than one occasion his admiration for my "hard-hitting" (his words) essays. Now, any fool can open his mouth and pontificate; any barely literate dude can string words of banality together and post them on the Net and feel good about himself that there's a trace of his name in the cyberspace. But to write something meaningful and memorable requires more than a familiarity with words and an acquaintance with the rudiments of grammar. It requires thinking of a high order, respect for facts and logic, and sensitivity to the magic of words.
The following is not really an essay per se. It is a compendium of my observations on "random (and yet tenuously related) present realities" as I see them. They are by no means oracular and words of wisdom; thus, I welcome feedback, dissent, and dialogue.
1. The VC and the fate of Vietnam
Anything (political regime included) that is immoderate, excessive, "immoral", and "unnatural" tends to be unstable and cannot last forever. A political regime that relies on brute force and corruption for governance, and yet shows that it is unwilling to challenge a historical enemy that is bent to take over the country, is doomed to collapse and destined to the dustbin of history. So the task of those Vietnamese who really care about Vietnam---and not just to lust after power and hanker after self-aggrandizement---is not to pontificate ad nauseam how bad the VC leadership is, but to get and work together for a post-VC regime that responds to the needs of the Vietnamese populace, and not just of the political and economic elites.
2. The U.S. and the "neo-involvement" in Vietnam
It is far-fetched to think that it is possible to dislodge the VC and to modernize Vietnam without the help of Pacific powers, principally the U.S. America's willingness to help build a post-VC regime is based on naked geopolitical considerations, and not really on the milk of human kindness. To thwart China's territorial and military ambitions, America needs Vietnam to be out of China's orbit.
3. The end of the American Empire and China's Century?
The last two decades have witnessed a plethora of books and articles on the "inevitable" and "looming" decline of America as a superpower, concomitant with the rise of China and its eventual replacement of America as the number one power on this planet. There have been noises---some of which emanate from China itself---that the 21st century belongs to China, just like America owned the 20th century.
I don't subscribe to the prophecy business. I have scant, if any at all, regard for "prophets" and all the loose talks and "prophecies" about "Judgment Day", "Armageddon", "End of the World", "Second Coming of You Know Who", " Return of the Messiah", "Maya Prophecy of Doom in the Year 2012" , so on and so forth, simply because I strongly think that no organism, humans included, on this planet can accurately predict the future which involves human behaviors. At best, humans can extrapolate the present trends and speculate, not predict, about future events.
While I don't deny that America is in relative decline (due to drop of work and study ethic, overseas competition, wasteful pursuit of unnecessary wars, blind and reflexive support of Israel, implicit and unnecessary quarrel with Islam instigated by Israel and zealous Christian "leaders", etc...), there are signs of light at the end of the tunnel (revival of manufacturing jobs, putting an end to unnecessary and unwinnable wars, addressing deficit problems). In addition, Americans have had a history to rise up and meet challenges (Civil War, civil and racial unrest in the 1960's, financial crisis in 2007). Furthermore, I think the leaders in America would not roll over and play dead and let China steamroll over America. The Obama administration has rightly recognized China is an enemy and has pivoted America back to the Pacific. Military resources are being diverted from elsewhere and directed to the Pacific.
On the flip side, China's leaders in recent years stupidly have overaggressively asserted themselves and thus incurred the distrust and fear of China's neighbors. It is no surprise that these countries have responded enthusiastically to America's current policy of encircling and containing China. The path to domination is not easy street if your neighbors don't like you and are banding together and looking to your number one rival and latent and implicit enemy for protection. On top of that, China's future seems to be far from guaranteed continued rising prosperity and political stability. China's environmental problems are scarcely dealt with. The economy is geared toward exports and not domestic consumption, hence vulnerable to overseas boycotts and world trade dislocations. Corruption and cronyism are institutionalized. Economic elites are shifting financial assets to overseas. Some of them are already ensconced themselves outside of China. The populace are agitating for political freedom and reforms. Throughout China's history, there are forces at work that give rise to political and territorial disunity.
Wissai
January 19, 2013
Friday, January 18, 2013
Story Ad Infinitum
Today I forced myself to read to the finish a short piece on the Internet written by a vain and seemingly overconfident bitch from the Southwest. To be honest, I didn't like her prose at all. It was full of solipsism and banal observations. I didn't learn a damn thing from her except she had plenty of unwarranted high regard of herself. Her poems were a bit better, but they didn't turn me on, as evidenced by the fact that I didn't find any poem of hers worthy to be translated into English.
Until I started surfing the Net, I thought I was strange and unusual and a bit off center, but now I realize that compared to most of the scumbags and assholes who are busy to make a name for themselves in the cyberspace, I am very balanced and sane, and very well educated and informed. I was totally taken aback by the level of stupidity, ignorance and yet self-adulation practiced by the posters. There were so many times I just shook my head in total amazement at the lack of self-awareness and self-respect of these stupid fuckers. One ugly and way over-the-hill and lonely and yet self- righteous widowed bitch from the Midwest posts about four pieces a day. I no longer read anything posted by the bitch. I just hit the "Delete" everytime I see her name. Quantity, from her, is the antithesis of quality. There's a Vietnamese dude that just astounds me for his rampant ignorance and brazen stubborness and blind ambition. His name makes me want to puke every single time I see it in my inbox.
You would think I am sociopathic from the way I sound, right? No sir, far from it. I am one of the most engaging, friendly, witty conversationists you ever find. You can bet your sweet ass on that. That's why I have women friends galore, without having to spend a dime on any of them. Spending money on broads and bitches so one can have their company is very stupid and a sign of lack of charm and confidence, if you ask me. At last count, I have had 19 women who have gone to bed with me (no, none of them was a board certified whore. I have stayed from whores, as a matter of principle. I don't buy or sell sex. That practice is beneath me. Come on, take a good look at me, don't you? With this face, this body, this "wit", these eyes and lips, you really think I would have to pay for sex? Be real, won't you? Sadly enough, though, I was a lousy lay and didn't really perform well at all, except with one woman. She was very patient and loving to me. She made me feel like a real man. From her, I learned what a female orgasm looked and sounded like. Unfortunately, she didn't take care of herself. She died of a heart-attack during one dinner. In fact, she died in my arms. I was grief-stricken, naturally, and have not quite got over her. After her death, for a while I hit the dating circuit and on a prowl for female company, but none has been her equal. As a matter of fact, the bitches I have met since she passed away were awful in temper and temperament. I have been on a dry spell, and not even bothered to look around anymore. I suppose I am getting difficult in my old age. I have more fun reading and learning foreign languages.
No, I didn't enjoy employing sarcasm as part of my language repertoire because sarcasm, as Oscar Wilde (commonly attributed) remarked, is a form of lowest, cheapest wit. And nobody wants to be regarded as low and cheap. But I am a firm believer in self-defense which involves inflicting pain on those who caused me pain. Perhaps more importantly, I don't suffer fools and loud-mouthed ignoramuses gladly. But enough of this unsavory, distasteful, nauseating, revolting experience over a repulsive-looking and yet (maybe because of being repulsive-looking) vain and loud-mouthed individual. Let me regale you, if I may, with a very abbreviated "story", called "Omar, Bob, and Roberto"
Omar was a young corpulent, unattractive Hispanic high school math teacher. He was also a devout Christian who firmly believed in God and the divinity of Christ. He met Roberto at a poker tournament. A friendship ensued despite Roberto being atheistic. Omar tried to make his new friend into a Christian because he cared about his friend, and wanted him to be saved. Roberto was too dumb and stubborn to fall for Omar's impassioned evangelical pleas and exhortations.
The friendship endured. Over time, Roberto came to admire Omar's compassion and kindness, not just to Roberto, but also to everybody. Omar had only one vice: he was a binge drinker. Roberto, on the other hand, had no more than two beers whenever he went out with Omar, because every time he took a swig of beer, he remembered his father who died of liver cancer.
Roberto recently struck a friendship with Bob, an introverted, gentle, ill Vietnam War vet. Bob was drinking and smoking himself to death. Over two weeks ago, Bob could no longer drive (and Roberto had to do the driving whenever Bob needed to get around) because his feet and legs started swelling. On top of that, he had a bad cold and wheezing problem, but refused to see a doctor, in spite of Roberto's pleas. Three days ago, Roberto, while out on an errand for Bob, took Bob straight to the emergency room of a VA hospital, over Bob's strenuous objections, where Bob was immediately admitted. The emergency room doctor said that Roberto had saved his friend's life because Bob's sodium and magnesium in the blood had fallen to dangerous levels. Bob is recovering despite having alcohol and nicotine abrupt withdrawal symptoms. His hands shake badly. Last night, during a visit, Roberto sat next to his friend's hospital bed and delivered an impassioned speech:
"Bob, you've got to save your own life. You must find a reason to live. You must think of other people who care about you. You're a good man. There are many bad people out there who want to live. You're a good man, then why do you want to die? I care about you. I want you to live. I want you to be around so you can continue playing with your new toy, iPad, which I helped you purchase. When you recover, we'll play chess together as you often wished we would. But you must promise me you shall stop the booze and the cigarettes for good, once you get out of here, otherwise all my efforts to help you amounted to nothing, to a colossal waste of time. You must not break my heart. Meanwhile, pray, Bob, pray to your God, to Jesus, asking them to give you strength. It can be done. It has been done before. Let me tell you about my wonderful Christian, Hispanic friend, Omar, who opened up my heart, who changed me, who was responsible for my deciding to reach out to you in your hour of need...."
I shared the above story, "Omar, Bob, and Roberto" with the bitch. She failed to understand the intents and purposes of my sharing. Her failure dried up any lingering desire of mine to let her have a peek into my mind. She's too fucking dumb to understand, too insensitive to feel, and too stubborn to learn from past experiences.
Most young men, insensible and raw in life's experiences, fancy that war would be an experience to broaden their minds or drive up their adrenaline levels. So they volunteer into the Army. Little do they know what awaits them. They will witness at first hand how sudden and arbitrary and final death can be. And if they are lucky, they will survive but they won't forget how the smell of death hangs in the air. That was what Bob told me after serving two tours in Vietnam. He was stressed out and only booze could numb him enough so he wouldn't go crazy. He couldn't forget the people's faces after getting shot and killed by him. He said he was stupid to walk up to his victims afterwards when the "enemies" retreated in a hurry and left their dead comrades behind. I asked him rhetorically, "Bob, tell me something. You really thought you remembered whom you shot and exactly where they fell, every single time? You killed that many Vietcongs?"
You would no doubt wonder if I really deserve to think myself in lofty terms. The truth is that I look at my "peers" and see nothing but mostly false pride and pathetic ignorance. I cast one look further and I see cowardice, laziness, and defensiveness. So to amuse and strengthen myself, I declare that I possess a sixth sense and I am unbreakable, which isn't really that far from the "truth". I certainly talk too much, however. I must respect and observe silence more. But tell me, why do the fuck that assholes and ignoramuses have to try to prove to me that they are smart and knowledgeable? Could it be that they lack intellectual honesty and true self-respect?
If you have followed my posts on the Net, you probably heard about Bob. I regret to add a sad postscript to his story. He checked out of the hospital in good shape, but is now resuming drinking with a vengeance. I stop seeing him. The life I save must be my own. I can't be a do-gooder all the time. There's nothing I can do to stop a man from killing himself if he is really after self-destruction. I do the best I can to please my conscience. Other than that, live and let live and let die also. People die everyday. People starve everyday. People suffer and need help everyday. I only help those who want to be helped. Humans are strange animals, but you already know that.
(To be continued)
Until I started surfing the Net, I thought I was strange and unusual and a bit off center, but now I realize that compared to most of the scumbags and assholes who are busy to make a name for themselves in the cyberspace, I am very balanced and sane, and very well educated and informed. I was totally taken aback by the level of stupidity, ignorance and yet self-adulation practiced by the posters. There were so many times I just shook my head in total amazement at the lack of self-awareness and self-respect of these stupid fuckers. One ugly and way over-the-hill and lonely and yet self- righteous widowed bitch from the Midwest posts about four pieces a day. I no longer read anything posted by the bitch. I just hit the "Delete" everytime I see her name. Quantity, from her, is the antithesis of quality. There's a Vietnamese dude that just astounds me for his rampant ignorance and brazen stubborness and blind ambition. His name makes me want to puke every single time I see it in my inbox.
You would think I am sociopathic from the way I sound, right? No sir, far from it. I am one of the most engaging, friendly, witty conversationists you ever find. You can bet your sweet ass on that. That's why I have women friends galore, without having to spend a dime on any of them. Spending money on broads and bitches so one can have their company is very stupid and a sign of lack of charm and confidence, if you ask me. At last count, I have had 19 women who have gone to bed with me (no, none of them was a board certified whore. I have stayed from whores, as a matter of principle. I don't buy or sell sex. That practice is beneath me. Come on, take a good look at me, don't you? With this face, this body, this "wit", these eyes and lips, you really think I would have to pay for sex? Be real, won't you? Sadly enough, though, I was a lousy lay and didn't really perform well at all, except with one woman. She was very patient and loving to me. She made me feel like a real man. From her, I learned what a female orgasm looked and sounded like. Unfortunately, she didn't take care of herself. She died of a heart-attack during one dinner. In fact, she died in my arms. I was grief-stricken, naturally, and have not quite got over her. After her death, for a while I hit the dating circuit and on a prowl for female company, but none has been her equal. As a matter of fact, the bitches I have met since she passed away were awful in temper and temperament. I have been on a dry spell, and not even bothered to look around anymore. I suppose I am getting difficult in my old age. I have more fun reading and learning foreign languages.
No, I didn't enjoy employing sarcasm as part of my language repertoire because sarcasm, as Oscar Wilde (commonly attributed) remarked, is a form of lowest, cheapest wit. And nobody wants to be regarded as low and cheap. But I am a firm believer in self-defense which involves inflicting pain on those who caused me pain. Perhaps more importantly, I don't suffer fools and loud-mouthed ignoramuses gladly. But enough of this unsavory, distasteful, nauseating, revolting experience over a repulsive-looking and yet (maybe because of being repulsive-looking) vain and loud-mouthed individual. Let me regale you, if I may, with a very abbreviated "story", called "Omar, Bob, and Roberto"
Omar was a young corpulent, unattractive Hispanic high school math teacher. He was also a devout Christian who firmly believed in God and the divinity of Christ. He met Roberto at a poker tournament. A friendship ensued despite Roberto being atheistic. Omar tried to make his new friend into a Christian because he cared about his friend, and wanted him to be saved. Roberto was too dumb and stubborn to fall for Omar's impassioned evangelical pleas and exhortations.
The friendship endured. Over time, Roberto came to admire Omar's compassion and kindness, not just to Roberto, but also to everybody. Omar had only one vice: he was a binge drinker. Roberto, on the other hand, had no more than two beers whenever he went out with Omar, because every time he took a swig of beer, he remembered his father who died of liver cancer.
Roberto recently struck a friendship with Bob, an introverted, gentle, ill Vietnam War vet. Bob was drinking and smoking himself to death. Over two weeks ago, Bob could no longer drive (and Roberto had to do the driving whenever Bob needed to get around) because his feet and legs started swelling. On top of that, he had a bad cold and wheezing problem, but refused to see a doctor, in spite of Roberto's pleas. Three days ago, Roberto, while out on an errand for Bob, took Bob straight to the emergency room of a VA hospital, over Bob's strenuous objections, where Bob was immediately admitted. The emergency room doctor said that Roberto had saved his friend's life because Bob's sodium and magnesium in the blood had fallen to dangerous levels. Bob is recovering despite having alcohol and nicotine abrupt withdrawal symptoms. His hands shake badly. Last night, during a visit, Roberto sat next to his friend's hospital bed and delivered an impassioned speech:
"Bob, you've got to save your own life. You must find a reason to live. You must think of other people who care about you. You're a good man. There are many bad people out there who want to live. You're a good man, then why do you want to die? I care about you. I want you to live. I want you to be around so you can continue playing with your new toy, iPad, which I helped you purchase. When you recover, we'll play chess together as you often wished we would. But you must promise me you shall stop the booze and the cigarettes for good, once you get out of here, otherwise all my efforts to help you amounted to nothing, to a colossal waste of time. You must not break my heart. Meanwhile, pray, Bob, pray to your God, to Jesus, asking them to give you strength. It can be done. It has been done before. Let me tell you about my wonderful Christian, Hispanic friend, Omar, who opened up my heart, who changed me, who was responsible for my deciding to reach out to you in your hour of need...."
I shared the above story, "Omar, Bob, and Roberto" with the bitch. She failed to understand the intents and purposes of my sharing. Her failure dried up any lingering desire of mine to let her have a peek into my mind. She's too fucking dumb to understand, too insensitive to feel, and too stubborn to learn from past experiences.
Most young men, insensible and raw in life's experiences, fancy that war would be an experience to broaden their minds or drive up their adrenaline levels. So they volunteer into the Army. Little do they know what awaits them. They will witness at first hand how sudden and arbitrary and final death can be. And if they are lucky, they will survive but they won't forget how the smell of death hangs in the air. That was what Bob told me after serving two tours in Vietnam. He was stressed out and only booze could numb him enough so he wouldn't go crazy. He couldn't forget the people's faces after getting shot and killed by him. He said he was stupid to walk up to his victims afterwards when the "enemies" retreated in a hurry and left their dead comrades behind. I asked him rhetorically, "Bob, tell me something. You really thought you remembered whom you shot and exactly where they fell, every single time? You killed that many Vietcongs?"
You would no doubt wonder if I really deserve to think myself in lofty terms. The truth is that I look at my "peers" and see nothing but mostly false pride and pathetic ignorance. I cast one look further and I see cowardice, laziness, and defensiveness. So to amuse and strengthen myself, I declare that I possess a sixth sense and I am unbreakable, which isn't really that far from the "truth". I certainly talk too much, however. I must respect and observe silence more. But tell me, why do the fuck that assholes and ignoramuses have to try to prove to me that they are smart and knowledgeable? Could it be that they lack intellectual honesty and true self-respect?
If you have followed my posts on the Net, you probably heard about Bob. I regret to add a sad postscript to his story. He checked out of the hospital in good shape, but is now resuming drinking with a vengeance. I stop seeing him. The life I save must be my own. I can't be a do-gooder all the time. There's nothing I can do to stop a man from killing himself if he is really after self-destruction. I do the best I can to please my conscience. Other than that, live and let live and let die also. People die everyday. People starve everyday. People suffer and need help everyday. I only help those who want to be helped. Humans are strange animals, but you already know that.
(To be continued)
Thursday, January 17, 2013
Nobility and Depravity
There are times when a man has to choose when he comes to a life's crossroads. One road will lead him to excitement, perdition, and depravity, but his life has longevity; the other leads to a dangerous, precarious existence, but his integrity will be intact. Which road he chooses tells the world more than to himself who he is and what he is made of.
Steve Pinker asserted that the following was how Man has viewed himself throughout the ages:
"Political Man in Classical times, Religious Man in the Christian Middle Ages, Economic Man in the Enlightenment, and Psychological Man in the 20th Century and after. Now, rather than understanding ourselves in terms of our place in the social order, our relationship with God, or our rational pursuit of self-interest, we are looking to Freud's theory of psychoanalysis and its conception of a complex psyche balancing its instinctual origins with the demands of civilization..."
I don't know if his assertion holds water under scrutiny, but ever since I came across it, I have thought about it. And the more I think about it, the more I give credence to the importance of intellectual honesty in defining a man's true worth. A real man, not a scumbag or an asshole, must learn to be truthful in making statements, especially in a public debate. He must respect facts and logic. Certain individuals failed miserably in this regard when debating with me. If they wish to have a catalogue of their lies and falsehoods, I will be more than happy to list their lies and falsehoods.
One thing I notice about intellectual cowards is that they never acknowledge their ignorance and cowardice. They prefer to adopt an air of righteousness or victimhood. They are just the polar opposites of me. No wonder I hold them in complete contempt. One asshole recently shed crocodile tears and pretended ignorance and dismay over what had transpired between him and me and wondered out loud as to why I had denounced him in a graphic and memorable manner and why I had regarded him no better than pond scum and a wriggling maggot in a pile of shit. Some humans are pitiful and unwittingly "funny". Hitler knew about that. Now I know about. They don't really respect themselves. If they do, they would work on their stupid ignorance and would not pretend who they are not. They are cowards in every sense of the word. They dish out insults and yet cannot handle retaliation. Emotionally they are weak and childish, yet they call others childish. "Humans" like those deserve to be done away with and exterminated like vermin. I wonder why they turned out to be like that. Is that genetics or just blind stupidity and animalism? Don't they know the most important thing a real human needs to realize is to be true to himself and to face the world squarely? Most "humans" I have met always pretend they are better than they really are. One bitch midget was downright ugly but told me in all seriousness that she considered herself to be "good-looking". And when I expressed incredulity at her self-assertion, she sarcastically asked me if I regarded myself as handsome. My reaction was screaming at the top of my lungs, "Yes, I am fucking handsome! Always was and still am. People have told me I am good-looking since I was a little boy." and then I walked away from the bitch in utter disgust. I felt like pond scum had washed over me and I had to be in a hurry to take a long bath. Okay, I admit that my reaction was a bit extreme and uncool, but I just couldn't handle pretense. If I have power, I would line all pretenders against a wall and tickle them to death. I would make them laugh to extinction.
Wissai
(to be continued)
Steve Pinker asserted that the following was how Man has viewed himself throughout the ages:
"Political Man in Classical times, Religious Man in the Christian Middle Ages, Economic Man in the Enlightenment, and Psychological Man in the 20th Century and after. Now, rather than understanding ourselves in terms of our place in the social order, our relationship with God, or our rational pursuit of self-interest, we are looking to Freud's theory of psychoanalysis and its conception of a complex psyche balancing its instinctual origins with the demands of civilization..."
I don't know if his assertion holds water under scrutiny, but ever since I came across it, I have thought about it. And the more I think about it, the more I give credence to the importance of intellectual honesty in defining a man's true worth. A real man, not a scumbag or an asshole, must learn to be truthful in making statements, especially in a public debate. He must respect facts and logic. Certain individuals failed miserably in this regard when debating with me. If they wish to have a catalogue of their lies and falsehoods, I will be more than happy to list their lies and falsehoods.
One thing I notice about intellectual cowards is that they never acknowledge their ignorance and cowardice. They prefer to adopt an air of righteousness or victimhood. They are just the polar opposites of me. No wonder I hold them in complete contempt. One asshole recently shed crocodile tears and pretended ignorance and dismay over what had transpired between him and me and wondered out loud as to why I had denounced him in a graphic and memorable manner and why I had regarded him no better than pond scum and a wriggling maggot in a pile of shit. Some humans are pitiful and unwittingly "funny". Hitler knew about that. Now I know about. They don't really respect themselves. If they do, they would work on their stupid ignorance and would not pretend who they are not. They are cowards in every sense of the word. They dish out insults and yet cannot handle retaliation. Emotionally they are weak and childish, yet they call others childish. "Humans" like those deserve to be done away with and exterminated like vermin. I wonder why they turned out to be like that. Is that genetics or just blind stupidity and animalism? Don't they know the most important thing a real human needs to realize is to be true to himself and to face the world squarely? Most "humans" I have met always pretend they are better than they really are. One bitch midget was downright ugly but told me in all seriousness that she considered herself to be "good-looking". And when I expressed incredulity at her self-assertion, she sarcastically asked me if I regarded myself as handsome. My reaction was screaming at the top of my lungs, "Yes, I am fucking handsome! Always was and still am. People have told me I am good-looking since I was a little boy." and then I walked away from the bitch in utter disgust. I felt like pond scum had washed over me and I had to be in a hurry to take a long bath. Okay, I admit that my reaction was a bit extreme and uncool, but I just couldn't handle pretense. If I have power, I would line all pretenders against a wall and tickle them to death. I would make them laugh to extinction.
Wissai
(to be continued)
Saturday, January 12, 2013
Oh My Goodness, Scumbags Keep Proliferating
Flashbacks abounded this morning when I woke up. I must be calm, cool, and collected, I told myself, since I am surrounded by ignnoramuses and idiots and cowards and hypocrites.
Right off the bat, a stuck- up, power- hungry, coward stuck his nose in a matter of which the asshoke didn't have a fucking clue or so he claimed. I pointedly fired back a reply of which I mentioned his incompetence and laziness and unfairness.
Next appeared in my inbox was the bitch's pontification on my piece about Hefner's third marriage to a nubile former Playmate. Instead of noting the tightly built case against conventional assumptions advanced by me,
(1. No, I can assure you that not all men aspire to be like Hugh Hefner as far as marrying nubile women is concerned. To each his own. Who are we to ridicule Hefner's proclivity for young women as marriage partners? Maybe he does love Crystal Harris for the totality of her being, and not just her voluptuous body. We don't know for sure.
2. As regards common sense, who are we, again, to pass judgment that Hefner is deficient in that area? Maybe he does possess abundant common sense in preferring younger women to old hags with wrinkled faces, sagging boobs, and irascible temper tantrums. Don't you hear of the adage that marrying younger women make men happy, proud, and young, not counting the benefits of being well taken care of in case the men are sick? Marriage is more than sex. Sex is not the only activity that holds a man and a woman together.
3. The number of women holding public offices is rising is due to several factors (more voting rights for women, more qualified women candidates, and men are no longer chauvinistic), and not because men don't have common sense.
Proper thinking is hard work. We should refrain from hastily jumping into rash conclusions. Private, conditional, isolated truths should not be generalized and stretched into universal truths. Very few conclusions about humans are conclusive and irrefutable. Most conclusions about human behaviors are qualified at best. There is something beautiful being a human. We are evolving, unfinished, and capable for change organisms. We defy easy generalizations.)
she annoyingly talked about boring, mundane, old-as-earth assumptions when a wealthy old man married a young, sexy woman. Let me tell you, there's not an ounce of originality about the bitch, not in her thinking, not in her feedings. Everything about her is commonplace and boring and irritating. She can't think, period. How can one think when one does not seriously pursue knowledge? The bitch has been accusing me of arrogance. I don't think she even knows what arrogance means. To understand arrogance, one must be in touch with superiority, sublimity, or at least excellence, otherwise one just rehashes what one heard without fully understanding what one heard.
I am not really arrogant. In fact. I am painfully aware of my ignorance.I just hate fakery and play-acting, but then realities time and again are forced on me that the human world is a vast stage and almost everybody tries to act his part in order to feel good about himself or simply to survive. Nobody I have met is quite as ruthlessly honest to himself as me. I sometimes wish I had real political power so I could carry out acts of catharsis and improve upon this sorry piece of planet where teem maggots and scums.
(To be continued)
Right off the bat, a stuck- up, power- hungry, coward stuck his nose in a matter of which the asshoke didn't have a fucking clue or so he claimed. I pointedly fired back a reply of which I mentioned his incompetence and laziness and unfairness.
Next appeared in my inbox was the bitch's pontification on my piece about Hefner's third marriage to a nubile former Playmate. Instead of noting the tightly built case against conventional assumptions advanced by me,
(1. No, I can assure you that not all men aspire to be like Hugh Hefner as far as marrying nubile women is concerned. To each his own. Who are we to ridicule Hefner's proclivity for young women as marriage partners? Maybe he does love Crystal Harris for the totality of her being, and not just her voluptuous body. We don't know for sure.
2. As regards common sense, who are we, again, to pass judgment that Hefner is deficient in that area? Maybe he does possess abundant common sense in preferring younger women to old hags with wrinkled faces, sagging boobs, and irascible temper tantrums. Don't you hear of the adage that marrying younger women make men happy, proud, and young, not counting the benefits of being well taken care of in case the men are sick? Marriage is more than sex. Sex is not the only activity that holds a man and a woman together.
3. The number of women holding public offices is rising is due to several factors (more voting rights for women, more qualified women candidates, and men are no longer chauvinistic), and not because men don't have common sense.
Proper thinking is hard work. We should refrain from hastily jumping into rash conclusions. Private, conditional, isolated truths should not be generalized and stretched into universal truths. Very few conclusions about humans are conclusive and irrefutable. Most conclusions about human behaviors are qualified at best. There is something beautiful being a human. We are evolving, unfinished, and capable for change organisms. We defy easy generalizations.)
she annoyingly talked about boring, mundane, old-as-earth assumptions when a wealthy old man married a young, sexy woman. Let me tell you, there's not an ounce of originality about the bitch, not in her thinking, not in her feedings. Everything about her is commonplace and boring and irritating. She can't think, period. How can one think when one does not seriously pursue knowledge? The bitch has been accusing me of arrogance. I don't think she even knows what arrogance means. To understand arrogance, one must be in touch with superiority, sublimity, or at least excellence, otherwise one just rehashes what one heard without fully understanding what one heard.
I am not really arrogant. In fact. I am painfully aware of my ignorance.I just hate fakery and play-acting, but then realities time and again are forced on me that the human world is a vast stage and almost everybody tries to act his part in order to feel good about himself or simply to survive. Nobody I have met is quite as ruthlessly honest to himself as me. I sometimes wish I had real political power so I could carry out acts of catharsis and improve upon this sorry piece of planet where teem maggots and scums.
(To be continued)
Thursday, January 10, 2013
Games Scumbags Play
IMHO, confusion (often induced by dishonest practitioners of rhetoric) occurs when the nature of a proposition is not carefully examined. At this juncture my puny mind can only think of four categories of propositions:
A proposition can be absolutely correct/true: pure water boils at 100 degrees Celsius at sea level.
A proposition is absolutely incorrect/wrong: like a salamander, a man's arm or leg can be amputated and in a due time a new limb will grow to replace the amputated one.
A proposition is universally true: raping and then murdering defenseless one's own children are morally repugnant, and the parent(s) who did that should be severely punished, if found to be of sound mind.
A proposition is relatively/privately/"conditionally" true:
-thin women with "good-looking facial features" are sexually desirable
-"God" is "great", "love", "all-knowing", "merciful", etc....
-poor people are lazy and/or stupid.
Humans are protean, endowed with free will, and not quite subject to "behaviorism". Thus, most propositions/statements about humans should be taken as having only relative/private/conditional values. What is true/meaningful/applicable to one human or a group of humans may be not true and meaningful to others. That is something stupid religious and political zealots fail to realize.
Let me tell you something else: most humans are stupid scumbags, incapable of rational thinking and yet prideful and stubborn and defensive of their ignorance, and hypocritical to the core. I have run into assholes like that all my life. Take the whore from Northwest. She makes me sick whenever I see her pontificate since I know she is a lascivious, lying, hypocritical whore. I didn't know that about her when I first met her, though. I was stupid and gullible. I thought she was a nice woman although I had some reservations because she did brag a lot. She is not the only from the Northwest that makes me sick. Around 2001, another whore in the same area approached me and professed to be a Christian. She sent me some books and professed to love me! I believed her until she started hitting me for money. Anyway, these two whores were not as ugly as the asshole from Down Under. The asshole looked like a cross between a pig and a dog. He was way down repulsive in appearance and possessed an ignorance that went with his "looks".
Most humans don't know anything about logic and rhetoric. They don't know how to reason, but love to see their names in print, especially now they can post their idiotic views on the Internet. In their stupid delusions, they think what they write are oracular in nature, gems of wisdom, and nuggets of unalloyed truths, but they don't know truths are hard to come by and difficult to handle. Only the strong and those with brains, hearts, and decency can hold a true conversation/dialogue in reaching truths or at least their approximations. Scumbags and animals and "little peasants" are not interested in high-minded discussions; instead, they resort to cheap, snide terms of slang and insult to get their rocks off. In a certain community where I reside, we all know who these despicable, inarticulate, barely literate, poorly read, but vociferous Tweedledee and Tweedledum are.
Some Vietnamese with plenty of time on their hand and lack of understanding in their brains love to blast former anti-war activists like Kerry and Fonda especially when these individuals denounced atrocities committed by the American troops. They blithely observed that atrocities were committed by all sides in times of war. They also vehemently ridiculed and denounced certain former Vietnamese expatriates singers who decided to come back to Vietnam in order to give concerts or actually live there. I answered to these holier-than-thou, stuck-up, self-righteous , loud-mouthed social critics with the following observations:
1. Yes, atrocities were committed by all sides in Vietnam War. But the atrocities under discussion were the atrocities committed by the supposedly moralistic, God-fearing Christian Americans, the kind of atrocities that bothered the sensibilities of the young lieutenant John Kerry and he would like to bring them to the attention of the American Congress. Call his action as "self-serving" as long as you like, I call his testimony the words of a brave young man whose conscience was not impaired. Don't you think that Kerry did not contemplate that his testimony would incur the wrath of knee-jerked patriots and sociopaths and psychopaths?
2. Kerry served only four months in Vietnam but had three injuries. That was why he was qualified to get out of Vietnam. At least he served and volunteered in the dangerous missions of Swift Boat instead of escaping to Canada or lobbying for military deferments as the arm-chair "warrior" Dick Cheney did.
3. It is far-fetched and tenuous to establish a direct link between the anti-war activities of the likes of Kerry and Fonda and being street people of some American Vietnam War veterans. Is there any literature to that effect? It could well be these people were constitutionally weak in the first place and couldn't handle the aftermaths of the horrors (some of which might even be committed by themselves) of war,and the disappointment of not being given a hero's welcome complete with ticker parade and late night reveries in town. While I don't deny that the anti-war movement hastened the end of the American involvement in the Vietnam, I think the role of individuals like Kerry, Fonda, Dylan, and Baez was blown out of proportions. I don't think these individuals played any pivotal roles in the movement. At best they lent an air of artistic and celebrity endorsements to the cause which enjoyed widespread support among the young and the liberals. Attacking these individuals at this juncture of time over their activities 40 years ago smacks pettiness and anachronism. Our energy is better spent in attacking the VC leadership head-on who are posing grave danger to the survival of Vietnam and the Vietnamese people. Do we have the guts to do that? Or are we just a bunch of wankers indulging in self-gratification by attacking Kerry et al on the one hand, and verbally assaulting Pham Duy, Khanh Ly, and others on the other? I think it is cowardly to attack those who are not in a position to fight back. If we must attack, we should attack those who can inflict damage on us.
Real truths are hard to come by and difficult to handle. All pretensions to truths are just smoke and empty, stupid noises made by vain attention-seekers.
4. I said North Vietnam was bombed ALMOST to Stone Age, and that statement, though somewhat exaggerated, was not far from the picture.
5. Only those Vietnamese with a burning, boundless, irrational hatred of Communism to the point they could not distinguish the rightfully hated VC leadership and their diehard followers from the hapless Vietnamese common folks who were and are forced to live under the yoke of Communism, would oppose any program and activity that would improve Vietnam, but would not necessarily remove the VC leadership from power. Such Vietnamese love fighting yesterday 's wars and yesterday's antiwar protesters and cannot rock themselves to sleep unless they have to say something pejorative about Kerry and Fonda whenever they have a chance. These people have fossilized mindsets. It would be far better and smarter for them to cultivate relations with incoming American Secretary of State John Kerry and asks him somehow to convince and influence Vietnam'sVC leadership to see the world, especially regarding Red China, the way Burma's leaders are seeing.
Most people just exist and they know that. They are too lazy to change for the better and yet they know life is slipping away from them. Do you really want to be like them? If not, be prepared to think of the following (thinking leads to acting):
1. Who am I?
2. What am I doing?
3. Where am I going?
4. Am I strong enough to face truths? Will that make me happy and serene and proud of myself?
Think back of what I wrote on at the beginning about logic, rhetoric, and propositions. All the words there were distilled from a lifetime of thinking. I didn't copy them from anybody. At the age of 11, I discovered all by myself that there was no Personal God. While that may be a private, and not an universal, truth, it's a cornerstone of my thinking. Everything has flowed from there.
A proposition can be absolutely correct/true: pure water boils at 100 degrees Celsius at sea level.
A proposition is absolutely incorrect/wrong: like a salamander, a man's arm or leg can be amputated and in a due time a new limb will grow to replace the amputated one.
A proposition is universally true: raping and then murdering defenseless one's own children are morally repugnant, and the parent(s) who did that should be severely punished, if found to be of sound mind.
A proposition is relatively/privately/"conditionally" true:
-thin women with "good-looking facial features" are sexually desirable
-"God" is "great", "love", "all-knowing", "merciful", etc....
-poor people are lazy and/or stupid.
Humans are protean, endowed with free will, and not quite subject to "behaviorism". Thus, most propositions/statements about humans should be taken as having only relative/private/conditional values. What is true/meaningful/applicable to one human or a group of humans may be not true and meaningful to others. That is something stupid religious and political zealots fail to realize.
Let me tell you something else: most humans are stupid scumbags, incapable of rational thinking and yet prideful and stubborn and defensive of their ignorance, and hypocritical to the core. I have run into assholes like that all my life. Take the whore from Northwest. She makes me sick whenever I see her pontificate since I know she is a lascivious, lying, hypocritical whore. I didn't know that about her when I first met her, though. I was stupid and gullible. I thought she was a nice woman although I had some reservations because she did brag a lot. She is not the only from the Northwest that makes me sick. Around 2001, another whore in the same area approached me and professed to be a Christian. She sent me some books and professed to love me! I believed her until she started hitting me for money. Anyway, these two whores were not as ugly as the asshole from Down Under. The asshole looked like a cross between a pig and a dog. He was way down repulsive in appearance and possessed an ignorance that went with his "looks".
Most humans don't know anything about logic and rhetoric. They don't know how to reason, but love to see their names in print, especially now they can post their idiotic views on the Internet. In their stupid delusions, they think what they write are oracular in nature, gems of wisdom, and nuggets of unalloyed truths, but they don't know truths are hard to come by and difficult to handle. Only the strong and those with brains, hearts, and decency can hold a true conversation/dialogue in reaching truths or at least their approximations. Scumbags and animals and "little peasants" are not interested in high-minded discussions; instead, they resort to cheap, snide terms of slang and insult to get their rocks off. In a certain community where I reside, we all know who these despicable, inarticulate, barely literate, poorly read, but vociferous Tweedledee and Tweedledum are.
Some Vietnamese with plenty of time on their hand and lack of understanding in their brains love to blast former anti-war activists like Kerry and Fonda especially when these individuals denounced atrocities committed by the American troops. They blithely observed that atrocities were committed by all sides in times of war. They also vehemently ridiculed and denounced certain former Vietnamese expatriates singers who decided to come back to Vietnam in order to give concerts or actually live there. I answered to these holier-than-thou, stuck-up, self-righteous , loud-mouthed social critics with the following observations:
1. Yes, atrocities were committed by all sides in Vietnam War. But the atrocities under discussion were the atrocities committed by the supposedly moralistic, God-fearing Christian Americans, the kind of atrocities that bothered the sensibilities of the young lieutenant John Kerry and he would like to bring them to the attention of the American Congress. Call his action as "self-serving" as long as you like, I call his testimony the words of a brave young man whose conscience was not impaired. Don't you think that Kerry did not contemplate that his testimony would incur the wrath of knee-jerked patriots and sociopaths and psychopaths?
2. Kerry served only four months in Vietnam but had three injuries. That was why he was qualified to get out of Vietnam. At least he served and volunteered in the dangerous missions of Swift Boat instead of escaping to Canada or lobbying for military deferments as the arm-chair "warrior" Dick Cheney did.
3. It is far-fetched and tenuous to establish a direct link between the anti-war activities of the likes of Kerry and Fonda and being street people of some American Vietnam War veterans. Is there any literature to that effect? It could well be these people were constitutionally weak in the first place and couldn't handle the aftermaths of the horrors (some of which might even be committed by themselves) of war,and the disappointment of not being given a hero's welcome complete with ticker parade and late night reveries in town. While I don't deny that the anti-war movement hastened the end of the American involvement in the Vietnam, I think the role of individuals like Kerry, Fonda, Dylan, and Baez was blown out of proportions. I don't think these individuals played any pivotal roles in the movement. At best they lent an air of artistic and celebrity endorsements to the cause which enjoyed widespread support among the young and the liberals. Attacking these individuals at this juncture of time over their activities 40 years ago smacks pettiness and anachronism. Our energy is better spent in attacking the VC leadership head-on who are posing grave danger to the survival of Vietnam and the Vietnamese people. Do we have the guts to do that? Or are we just a bunch of wankers indulging in self-gratification by attacking Kerry et al on the one hand, and verbally assaulting Pham Duy, Khanh Ly, and others on the other? I think it is cowardly to attack those who are not in a position to fight back. If we must attack, we should attack those who can inflict damage on us.
Real truths are hard to come by and difficult to handle. All pretensions to truths are just smoke and empty, stupid noises made by vain attention-seekers.
4. I said North Vietnam was bombed ALMOST to Stone Age, and that statement, though somewhat exaggerated, was not far from the picture.
5. Only those Vietnamese with a burning, boundless, irrational hatred of Communism to the point they could not distinguish the rightfully hated VC leadership and their diehard followers from the hapless Vietnamese common folks who were and are forced to live under the yoke of Communism, would oppose any program and activity that would improve Vietnam, but would not necessarily remove the VC leadership from power. Such Vietnamese love fighting yesterday 's wars and yesterday's antiwar protesters and cannot rock themselves to sleep unless they have to say something pejorative about Kerry and Fonda whenever they have a chance. These people have fossilized mindsets. It would be far better and smarter for them to cultivate relations with incoming American Secretary of State John Kerry and asks him somehow to convince and influence Vietnam'sVC leadership to see the world, especially regarding Red China, the way Burma's leaders are seeing.
Most people just exist and they know that. They are too lazy to change for the better and yet they know life is slipping away from them. Do you really want to be like them? If not, be prepared to think of the following (thinking leads to acting):
1. Who am I?
2. What am I doing?
3. Where am I going?
4. Am I strong enough to face truths? Will that make me happy and serene and proud of myself?
Think back of what I wrote on at the beginning about logic, rhetoric, and propositions. All the words there were distilled from a lifetime of thinking. I didn't copy them from anybody. At the age of 11, I discovered all by myself that there was no Personal God. While that may be a private, and not an universal, truth, it's a cornerstone of my thinking. Everything has flowed from there.
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
voices to voices, lips to lips
voices to voices, lip to lip
i swear (to noone everyone) constitutes
undying; or whatever this and that petal confutes...
to exist being a peculiar form of sleep
what's beyond logic happens beneath will;
nor can these moments be translated: i say
that even after April
by God there is no excuse for May
___bring forth your flowers and machinery: sculpture and prose
flowers guess and miss
machinery is the more accurate, yes
it delivers the goods, Heaven knows
(yet are we mindful, though not as yet awake,
of ourselves which shout and cling, being
for a little while and which easily break
in spite of the best overseeing)
i mean that the blond absence of any program
except last and always and first to live
makes unimportant what i and you believe;
not for philosophy does this rose give a damn...
bring on your fireworks, which are a mixed
splendor of piston and pistil; very well
provided an instant may be fixed
so that it will not rub, like any other pastel.
(While you and i have lips and voices which
are for kissing and to sing with
who cares if some oneeyed son of a bitch
invents an instrument to measure Spring with?
each dream nascitur, is not made...)
why then to Hell with that: the other, this,
since the thing perhaps is
to eat flowers and not to be afraid.
e. e. cummings
1926
voices to voices, lips to lips
with heavy homage to e.e. cummings
voices to voices, lips to lips
i swear to you and to everyone else
that they make up the undying
of this sentiment that refuses to sleep
what's beyond logic can only be magic
in this moment that even God
cannot compete
i bring you no flowers but only
scuplture of my words
if you close your eyes
you'll miss their kiss
voices and lips are more than just for songs and kisses
who cares if some sons of bitches
insist that Spring be the opening
of hearts and smiles
i am not afraid to dream that and this
nor am i afraid to fly
Wissai/NKBa'
August 21, 2012
P.S.:
Folks, read again and very, very slowly my "improvement" on e.e.c's original and you will see, if you have any sensitivity and intelligence and linguistic facility, that my version attests to my poetic "genius" and sensitivity to the English language. This self-assessment is no mere hyperbole, but plain, unvarnished truth. Every monkey seems to inflate its sense of self-importance, but I don't think I am guilty of that stupid lack of objectivity. A few years ago, a not-too-bright woman reminded me of how she "rushed" to my "rescue" when I appeared "to be down in the dumps". I didn't reply to the stupid comment from the stupid woman who obviously was burdened with a pathetic sense of self-importance. First of all, I was never down in the dumps since I had met her--I might be annoyed and "raving mad" and melodramatic in the expression of my feelings, but never, never suicidal. Second, and this is a very important point, in the final analysis, only a parent is important to his/her child since the child's very survival actually depends on its parent's support. Between functioning adults, strictly speaking, nobody is that important to anybody else. We go through the motions, we come to the dance, but we all look for number one and don't actually give a fucking damn to anybody else. We give lip service to love and all that shit, but in our heart of hearts, it's all "me, me, me" and "the hell with you". That unspoken message was driven home to me on 2013's New Year Eve when I was hit hard with a massive toothache. I am on the mend now, but decidedly wiser about the so-called human love.
i swear (to noone everyone) constitutes
undying; or whatever this and that petal confutes...
to exist being a peculiar form of sleep
what's beyond logic happens beneath will;
nor can these moments be translated: i say
that even after April
by God there is no excuse for May
___bring forth your flowers and machinery: sculpture and prose
flowers guess and miss
machinery is the more accurate, yes
it delivers the goods, Heaven knows
(yet are we mindful, though not as yet awake,
of ourselves which shout and cling, being
for a little while and which easily break
in spite of the best overseeing)
i mean that the blond absence of any program
except last and always and first to live
makes unimportant what i and you believe;
not for philosophy does this rose give a damn...
bring on your fireworks, which are a mixed
splendor of piston and pistil; very well
provided an instant may be fixed
so that it will not rub, like any other pastel.
(While you and i have lips and voices which
are for kissing and to sing with
who cares if some oneeyed son of a bitch
invents an instrument to measure Spring with?
each dream nascitur, is not made...)
why then to Hell with that: the other, this,
since the thing perhaps is
to eat flowers and not to be afraid.
e. e. cummings
1926
voices to voices, lips to lips
with heavy homage to e.e. cummings
voices to voices, lips to lips
i swear to you and to everyone else
that they make up the undying
of this sentiment that refuses to sleep
what's beyond logic can only be magic
in this moment that even God
cannot compete
i bring you no flowers but only
scuplture of my words
if you close your eyes
you'll miss their kiss
voices and lips are more than just for songs and kisses
who cares if some sons of bitches
insist that Spring be the opening
of hearts and smiles
i am not afraid to dream that and this
nor am i afraid to fly
Wissai/NKBa'
August 21, 2012
P.S.:
Folks, read again and very, very slowly my "improvement" on e.e.c's original and you will see, if you have any sensitivity and intelligence and linguistic facility, that my version attests to my poetic "genius" and sensitivity to the English language. This self-assessment is no mere hyperbole, but plain, unvarnished truth. Every monkey seems to inflate its sense of self-importance, but I don't think I am guilty of that stupid lack of objectivity. A few years ago, a not-too-bright woman reminded me of how she "rushed" to my "rescue" when I appeared "to be down in the dumps". I didn't reply to the stupid comment from the stupid woman who obviously was burdened with a pathetic sense of self-importance. First of all, I was never down in the dumps since I had met her--I might be annoyed and "raving mad" and melodramatic in the expression of my feelings, but never, never suicidal. Second, and this is a very important point, in the final analysis, only a parent is important to his/her child since the child's very survival actually depends on its parent's support. Between functioning adults, strictly speaking, nobody is that important to anybody else. We go through the motions, we come to the dance, but we all look for number one and don't actually give a fucking damn to anybody else. We give lip service to love and all that shit, but in our heart of hearts, it's all "me, me, me" and "the hell with you". That unspoken message was driven home to me on 2013's New Year Eve when I was hit hard with a massive toothache. I am on the mend now, but decidedly wiser about the so-called human love.
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